The Heart Wants What The Heart Wants Or So It Wans
by Lily McIntire
Summary: The moments thereafter, 2x24. Beckett's a mess, Castle's gone, and no, nothing's changing the way any of that is. Wee spoilers, wee tweaking of 2x24's ending, nothing impactful. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

This is my first fanfic is a _very_ long time...wow. .;I wrote it on a whim; I've run out of good things to read, for the moment, and I simply cannot move Castle (or Beckett) out of my obnoxious skull. So here's this. I hope you enjoy, whoever you may be, and that you are kind enough to offer me your praises as well as criticisms, ideas, etc. I appreciate it already. :']

-Oh, and this is short for two reasons: 1) Dinner needed help, and 2) Dinner is done. ] /ravenous

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these remarkable characters or the things we've been enlightened to know about them. That's all abc. 3

So, here we go!

Chapter 1 :: The _Un_expected

Watching it all without being able to watch herself was staggering. She didn't know (and half didn't want to know) how her face must have looked- appalled, shocked, angry to the point of bitch-slapping….but any of those would be inappropriate emotions to express in any way, considering her employed status. The single emotion she was intensely battling, heaving in her chest above the rest and leaving room for the aforementioned to slip by, was heart-brokenness. It was as if not only her heart had cracked, but a part of her mind. She'd acted to late…pushed too little, joked too much. From the befuddled looks of her friend, it was more than just a schoolgirl crush. And now Richard-the-double-player-spy-Castle was pirouette-ing to the elevator with the sickest of wenches surgically stitched to his side.

Where she should be. Where everyone had expected her, until this very _un_expected, awkward moment, to be.

Eyes switching back onto one of her best girl friends, Lanie Parish experienced a new emotional rush: watching the impenetrable wall called Kate Beckett admit defeat, bowing her head to do none other than the single most unexpected act the doctor -nor anyone else in the precinct community standing around her- had never anticipated to witness Beckett pursue when facing a loss: admit defeat without finishing the battle. No chasing after the perp, determination set in her steady yet feral gaze, no gunshot like the bastard deserved- she did squat but collapse inwardly. Like her mother, she had let him go. Too easily…damned psychiatrists thought they knew everything- let go her ass! But under her disdain, Lanie knew how tender Beckett really was…and she understood why the damsel didn't run after the best man to ever conveniently land in her already very full lap. It cut deeply, possibly hurting worse than if she'd spoken up, but it was the pain Beckett had chosen. So Lanie, lost for all words, psychically rendered Castle a lost cause, sending Kate all the good karma she'd been holding onto for such an occasion as this. But Beckett remained (unmoved by the wave of karma) where she stood, rooted to the floor until the elevator doors dinged shut in time with a single tear that struggled down her cheek. The Titanic had, against all evidence and physical logic, sunk, once again.

The door separating Castle and Beckett from their team family wasn't built with the intention of silencing all conversations partaking outside, or vice-versa. It was obvious, from the moment Beckett had invited Castle to the hallway for a private yet unspoken expression known amongst the others, that the highly-secured heart (and its outlandish influences) of Detective Katherine Beckett were about to be unlocked.

Of course they'd all scrambled for the front-row seat at the door as soon as the potentially life-changing conversation began.

Now, Lanie was regretting her luck of sitting closest to the break room's exit. She hadn't missed one blink of Beckett's anguished eyes; the sudden yet dominantly distraught taken aback visage that had forced her girl's waiting lips into a deeply furrowed frown, despite her obvious attempts to stop it. And most importantly, she didn't miss the watery eyes that side-glanced the break room before turning around by way of her right to hide them and walking in the opposite direction Castle had gone.

"No he didn't." Ryan's voice almost made the doctor jump- she'd forgotten the company around her.

"Uh, unless we're all suddenly suffering from hallucinations, I'm pretty sure he just did." Esposito retorted, right behind her.

"What a shame…" Captain Montgomery whispered to no one, his sentence needed to finishing. It was what they all were thinking, focusing on.

"What a Hitch," Ryan began, "What a Hitch." Esposito bagged.

A rustle behind her made Lanie turn face, blinking for the first time in quite a few seconds. She hadn't realized her eyes were wet.

"Well, we've all got work to do, or girlfriends to please." The captain offered what he could, squeezing his way through the group and abandoning the room. Ryan shrugged, Esposito snickered, and both returned to the table to gush down some last swigs of their celebration before heading home. A hand brushed Lanie's as he went past, waking her slightly from her daze.

"That's a real shame…men," She commented before giving both before her an if-you-ever-do-anything-like-this-to-a-women-I'll-murder-you-before-you-can-fumble-for-excuses look, blathering insults under her breath as she too, exited the very full room. "…Disgusting…worthless…rotten…oh I could _shoot_ the next Richard Castle who even dares thinking about thinking about looking at me…"

The morgue was cold. It was obvious, and yet, it wasn't. Cold places were good for more than just keeping the carcasses of the dead. They also consoled those hot with envy or jealousy or supreme ire, or those suffering from scalding burns that blistered below the skin.

Kate Beckett understood both, as she sat, legs dangling limply, on the side of an autopsy table.

_I never intended it to be anything like this…_

She coddled the bloody knife.

_To be continued..._

:D How about that?

Feel like giving me a review? I do, too. 3

If nobody responds much to this, I may or may not continue with it. Depends on my free time...but would go faster if I knew someone wanted to know more?

;3


	2. Chapter 2

_Having nothing better to do, I wrote a little bit more. I must apologize for the rookie grammar/spelling mistakes in Chapter one, and have read through this one time more to scan for stupid mistakes. _

Chapter 2 :: What It Do Baby Boo?

_I never intended it to be anything like this…_

It was the one thought on top, on top of all the others, the "_I should have made my move sooner"_s, the _"Struck out again, Beckett…pretty sad, for someone your age…" _and _"What's the point of playing this cat-and-mouse game if the mouse is such a backstabbing whore of a jackass?"_ It was the gist of what was tracing through her mind, each thought taking its sweet time in cutting out a piece of the walls that so surrounded her wounded heart. _It's to no fault but my own…_

And then there was the knife. She shouldn't have done it, but she'd had to release her frustration and pain onto something…even if may have been the teensy most illegal. Beckett now held consciousness that it was a stupid move, and could royally mess up her job as well as Lanie's, but who could blame her?

_The law, for starters._

"I'm so fucked." _Damn you, Richard Castle_. How could she have been so naïve? Letting herself, _her _believe that any man- let alone _Castle_ –cared, truly, for her, the parts of her no man could see even on the special occasion when she wore a bikini. She couldn't help but sniffle a smile, thinking of Castle's pitiful attempts to goad her into visiting the Hamptons with him. But that sort of trip, so long, with such a friend…she'd have to be a total imbecile to believe for a nanosecond that it would be anything less than a vacation between "good friends".

That was the point, she supposed. He knew that she would know what accepting such an offer would mean. Some of the truth would have to be spilt. It was Castle's closer, his last, desperate plea for her to do what he wasn't big enough to do- she knew that _now_. Which, essentially, was of no help, whatsoever.

That was why she'd stabbed the fresh cadaver. And now that she averted her vision back to reality instead of dragging along Memory Lane s'more, she realized she'd stabbed something else- her thigh. Less than accidentally. Oops.

Lanie felt for her girl, always had. It was why she felt nearly as heartbroken as Beckett had to, why she had cried when he walked away, too. When he'd taken even, unfaltering steps towards Lawd-only-knew-what-'cause-she-sure-as-hell-didn't-want-to, like it was no sin greater than a white lie. Like his heart wasn't racing, contemplating turning around and sweeping his very fine detective-cop-friend off her feet- ohh, sister Lanie knew. Richard Castle wasn't the just boyish comedic muffinhead he pretended to be. But apparently, he wasn't the soft, lovingly strong man she'd taken him for, either.

Yes, burn. _Burn all the way to hell and don't you touch my baby ever again or I'll __touch__ you back._

As she neither rushed nor delayed her path to her "office", Lanie couldn't help but zoom into the cracks of the Armageddon scene that had unbelievably played before her conscious eyes. Kate Beckett, of all people, did not deserve this. An ungrateful man, a childish celebrity baller, that wasn't someone who could give the girl what she deserved, finally. But that was who Castle was choosing to be. If that was who he had decided to be, au revoir, Mister Pimp.

The choice to hate on the man wasn't uneducated, or under false pretenses either. She'd seen the devastation created as Kate sleeplessly sought after her mother's killer, had felt the pain of losing a human's natural openness to others along with her, and had, consequently, fallen in love with her (alongside her, no homo kthx) as she fell for Castle. In fact, Castle knew of Kate's pain because she'd told him- part in trust, and part in hopes that he would shut up about her past. And there he went…taking that bond, and snipping it straight through. Of course, Lanie wouldn't have to be feeling this pain if _she_ were Kate, because she would have grabbed that man out of Gina's plastically-enhanced arms, slammed him into a wall, roguishly handcuffed him, and given him the best breath of life he'd ever know before throwing him back at the feet of his ex and promptly whiplashing him as she walked away.

"Have I mentioned what an ass that man is? Ooh, the things I could do to him with my bare hands alone-" Lanie drew in a quick breath of air as she reentered her morgue.

"…The things I could do to _you_ with my bare hands alone. Girl, what in the mother are you doing, exactly?" Castle-bashing aside, she preened her eyes from her newly-punctured cadaver to Beckett, who looked pale and…well, let's just be nice here and say she looked a mess.

"Lanie, I was sick with contempt and out of control and I couldn't-" she cut off, tear ducts still plenty active. Her words caught in her throat and her vocal cords, though working, made no such sound. Suddenly dizzy with remorse, Beckett clutched her head and sunk to the raw tiled floor, bony knees clanking together once before settling upon each other. She closed her eyes, wishing it all to go away.

"…I," Lanie opened her mouth with the intention of speaking, of scolding, making light of this obviously great situation, but found empathy leading her to her friend, instead. She knelt beside Kate, brushing her bangs away from her tear-stained cheeks. Her eye makeup was beginning to run, but nothing could be done about that just now. "Hun, hun look at me. Come on. You have to put this past you and accept what's happened. Stand up and walk out of here proud. Would you really want to be with a man with _that_ in him? You're better off, better loved. Go home. Take a bubble bath. Eat some chocolate, watch a movie, make a voodoo doll and send the wrath of Hates after him, but do it smiling. I'd gladly accompany you." She smiled down at her friend, who didn't resemble any part of Kate Beckett she'd met thus far in their relationship. New territory certainly didn't help any.

Kate had been nodding, impetuously opening and closing her eyes for different lengths of time, gaining her bearings and wit about her. Her stiffly locked arms had slowly fallen against her knees, elbows settling a few inches into open air to let her fingers grasp its opposite wrist. Lanie always knew best, somehow, always knew what to say and how to say it just right. If only she'd had that superpower, not half an hour ago, she might be…

"You're right…and I knew it all along…I just, I didn't want to believe that the things I was seeing and the words I was hearing weren't only for me. They weren't Castle-originals. He's a novelist, Lanie, a master with words and I knew that! But I let him wind me up…let him lead me out of my comfort zone like one of his puppets." She left her mouth open just a bit, stumped.

"Please, stop being such a raving fan girl and get up off that booty of yours." Lanie stood and offered both hands down to Beckett. The distressed took only one of the friendly pathologist's hands, using her other to shift her weight off her bandaged, hidden wound. Painstakingly, and avoiding Lanie's curious look, she managed to stand, suppressing a wince for Lanie's sake. She couldn't know what had happened.

"Now about the fresh stab wound in my dead body…" Lanie cocked her head to the side with a disappointed smile. She saw Beckett's flush face dishearten, and willing to do anything to keep her spirits on the lighter side of catastrophically depressed, added, "I'll take care of it."

"You don't have to do that-" Beckett argued but Lanie interrupted her, "Shut up and go home, detective. The world will not take a day off from murdering for any but God, and those inferior include the goddess of this precinct. "Lanie, I…" Beckett was still protesting.

"Will go home and stay there for a day or two. Come on now." Lanie quickly pushed the tray back into the vaultish space, turning the large metal lock on the square door. "I am so sorry for all of this," she whispered to number one twenty-six.

Grabbing a tissue, she dabbed at Kate's eyes, giving the girl something to take pride in while her confidence took one for the team. It was little more than mere instinct to take her arm and escort her from the morgue, setting her head against Kate's shoulder, and squeezing her arm. "It's over now, he can't do nothing more." Beckett frowned. He could, and he was. He was probably shacked up with Gina by now, and that brought a new wave of spite and hurt to displeasure.

"At least we know one thing." Anything to keep her mind off of the two, in bed, even if it included talking about him…

"What would that be?" Lanie walked them both up the stairs and into the main lobby of the precinct.

"I'm definitely not anything near Nikki Heat's league." Her leg was absolutely killing her.

"Oh, really?"

"Uh, yes?"

"And what do you think Nikki Heat would have done?" They were almost out of the place both women could call a second home, whether to help or to hurt remained a mystery…

"She would have stabbed him with her heel and said something perfectly treacherous."

"Hah, I can arrange that date, honey."

"Fall alone will be too soon." A serious tone edged into the playful conversation.

"Next summer?" Though she doubted he would be around that long, Beckett replied sourly,

"I'd better custom-order some new heels."

_Meanwhile, the Hamptons await…_

**END CHAPTER**

_I extremely wish I had a best friend who knew Castle well enough to read and critique me before I post new anythings, or discuss with me the other way I debated about going for this chapter. Instead, I'm going alone at this, and as usual, am unhappy with the way this went myself. However, if anyone would like to put me in my place, kindly tap the "review" button and hack away, my friend._

_[Lily Mc_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hooray, we're here! Finally. I do apologize for my lack of activity- my life exploded in many different directions, thus halting my free writing time. Nevertheless, we are back back on track, and (at least I am), missing Castle more than ever! Especially with that preview! Ooh! D; _

Chapter 3 :: The Rabbit Always Outruns The Hare...Most of The Time

Richard Castle was slouched back in a suede leather chair, socked feet crossed at the ankle, fingers glittering across the thin keys of his laptop. He was in no hurry, as the only hurry he had in mind was controlled by time and not him- so he disregarded it and let the salty sea air filtering through the open windows antagonize him into a solid writing mood. It wasn't with the same ease that he was finishing Nikki Heat's sequel as it had been, in starting. For starters, his smooth, poetic heart was in shambles, but as he thought back to his previous marriages, when, ever, had it not been? Honestly though, something was off under his many layers of fluffy personality. He checked everywhere inside his mottled head to find the leak as his fingertips wrote a sentence, and tapped the backspace button until it had been deleted; so recommenced the process he had begun an hour ago. All in all, not much was being accomplished beside the knot of confusion twisting furiously in his chest. Thing was, he hadn't even noticed his progression...or lack thereof.

The other block in his path, too mesmerizing to walk past, was Nikki Heat herself. Considering her character reeked of his NYPD Detective friend, being in the Hamptons versus his home office was feeling like less of a getaway than he'd been hoping for. As his fingers ceased rapid movement and settled on multiple random keys, he began probing himself for why he had conceived the notion that being here would change anything that had happened at the precinct. He'd still been the victim of cold deceit, he'd still been silently rejected by the woman who not a week before had been a regular at his breakfast table, oh, and she was still giggling at the probably very inappropriate whisperings of her schmuck of a boyfriend.

They were _so_ immature. (All jealous inclinations intended.)

Demming didn't know what her favourite breakfast pastry was, didn't know any of her secrets, and really, c'mon- what kind of relationship could ever blossom from _that_ horribly planted flower? Its own starving roots would soon be growing out of the ground, to one day choke their stem and cause its weakened head to just snap over, tragically. _Tragically._

Or, Demming could fall in the line of duty (haha, Demming…duty). It could happen! 'Twas a mighty dangerous job, working in…robbery.

But really, Beckett seemed counter-morose, and though he would never, ever, for any amount of money, contract deals, or attractive women, say it aloud, it was all he wanted for her. After all, he owed her for the trouble he'd caused the past year, the past marvelous, most-

"Oh, Richard!" A feminine voice sung out to him from behind the closed door of his suite. His sunken eyes connected with the two pages he'd managed since locking himself away, and a deep-seeded panic splurged through his veins as his fingers, and thumbs, sprang to life, jumping across the keyboard to desperately stab at letters which would, with a great deal of optimism, turn into coherent words.

**xYxYx**

Detective Kate Beckett was attempting (yet failing, equally as much), to lift her heart from the pit of grief in which it had been laden since Castle had unveiled his...bawdy summer plans. Something about knowing that she couldn't trick herself into believing he would be in his little chair by her desk the next morning, just to get her through this night, made time pass even more slowly. Lanie was texting her at different intervals each hour; it was her nephew's birthday and she'd promised the little boy she would be in attendance at his party. Mostly, her steadfast comrade was apologizing for the tragic timing, promising sweet red wine and some serious girl time as soon as the cake was served and presents were opened. But Beckett was relieved for this proximity of solitude, using it to her full advantage.

She was letting the warm bath water cleanse the tension from her discharging body, feeling a slow, progressive exhilaration as the many bubbles surrounding her closed in. It was like they understood, wanting to show her so by sculpting to her slender build. She knew it was silly, thinking like this, but under "silly" circumstances…silly fit right in. She sank deeper into the bubbles, letting water claim her up to her neck. Beneath its surface, a peaceful harmony beckoned to her. She knew if she were to dip her head in, the whines of her weeping heart would cease to be heard, lost in the orchestra of other choruses only audible where the air was untouchable.

Taking a few preparatory breaths, Kate gulped one last, and plunged beneath the line separating reality from mystical haven.

**xYxYx**

Doctor Lanie Parish scrambled away from an abundance of small, shrieking children as they catapulted off a potentially high-risk injury diving board and cannon-balled into her sister's pool. She loved the chillins to death, but let's be frank, here: her phone only had one life to live, and it was severely allergic to all that traced liquid.

**Don't go off reading any of the Derek Storm novels, either.**

She topped off the text with a winking smiley face to let her friend know she was on to her, and hit the "send" button of the less-than-smart phone. Working the morgue didn't overfill her pockets, but she certainly wasn't complaining. The doctor had what she needed, even more so in the department that could never be found in any convenient store or classified ad in the Times, (minus the brunt, brawn, and beautiful man, but that was all in due course), and those friends alone were enough to keep her payroll problems far from leaving her mouth.

"Lanie!"

"Bryton!" She giddily returned the overly enthusiastic attention-grabber.

"We're cuttin' my cake!" The five year-old beamed, his mouth, index and middle fingers dusty with frosting.

"It looks like you've already indulged, pun'kin! But lead Auntie Lanie to the fiesta and she'll teach you how to take seconds while momma's busy talkin'!" The boy exploded in giggles and eagerly snatched Lanie's hand, causing her to fumble the phone. No reply from Beckett...odd. Maybe she was taking a moment.

"Come on!" Her nephew tugged her wrist, briskly.

_Funny,_ she thought, _I've alway__s preferred __my men rough._

**xYxYx**

Kate closed her eyes at first, instinctively, but knowing her time was limited, she could only open them to see. Blurred shadows far off and above her, visibility lacking, she relaxed her fairly tense muscles, loosening each group by way of ease. First her arms, which came to float near her ears, then her neck, bobbing her head lazily about, followed by her legs, though now it was becoming tougher. Her wound was bitter and ungrateful for this cleansing, but she managed to tame it, long limbs detached from their usual taught stance, forcing her back, nearly floating. Last, and most difficult to ease, was everything in her middle. Her stomach was wound in tight coils, chest aflame with embarrassment, heart bashing against and bruising different areas of her ribcage the same way it had when Gina popped up next to Castle like the annoying and impossible to smack triple-mole threat in _Whack-A-Mole_. She wanted to whack-a-Gina, but couldn't. Why couldn't she? _"Why couldn't you, Kate? Why didn't you stop me?"_ The familiar deep comfort shocked her into looking past the shadows of the tub, where they were thickest, moving, creating something. And then he emerged, floating with her, smiling, blue eyes a-twinkle just for her. He asked her again, unrushed, _"Why didn't you tell me?"_

More bold sorrows and thrills rose and fell in her chest, only to rise a little higher than before and a fall a little less each time as he lingered nearer: hope taunted her, just out of reach, compassion swelled her heart to the point of popping, and a certain cheerfulness fed her that no other but him could have brought her in this moment. He was right, after all. She was Kate Beckett, the one he'd spent day in and day out with for a year now; all-nighters over cases, stealthy, dangerous undercover missions…they'd shared more than he and Gina ever had in their brief marriage and publisher-author roles- not counting the sex. In their parting that afternoon, she had held the cards that could have left her on top…

The whirlwind of emotions bubbled over, taking her mind away from the tub. It was too late that she realized the mounting pressure throughout her ribcage wasn't her heart pounding but her lungs, threatening to expand before her command if she didn't rise to safety, soon.

"_Kate."_ He offered her his hand. At first, that hand was holding a cup of their routine coffee, easily morphing into the handcuffs he'd once escaped from after she'd hooked him to the car to keep him put, and as she stared at the image, progressing to yet another form, she saw then her own dainty hand replace the cuffs, slipping into his grasp as that same hand had just hours before, shaking to their farewell. The mirage of her appendage dissipated then, within the bathwater, and Rick's open, welcoming palm reached out for her- her _real_ hand. She felt the coarse, heaving dryness of her lungs, felt her mind becoming fuzzy, and as she made her decision in one final motion, every primal instinct in her screaming _NO!_ ...But she'd already extended her hand, locked her real flesh within his, and as he pulled her deeper into the shadows of the water, somewhere above the bubbles, where her heart still wept, her cell phone buzzed- once, twice, thrice. If she'd had the mind to leave her sunken treasure behind, she would have seen that it was Lanie, seen that her friend was finally free to be cried on, an escort to accompany in solemn, and inadvertently giddy, drunkenness.

With one final vibration, and one first, opposed breath under the water of one very full tub, Beckett's phone automatically linked to the message:

**Towel off. I'm on my way.**

**END CHAPTER.**

_R&&R, rightnow. :D__ Before you forget- hurry__! And before _I_ forget, thank you, to the tenth and beyond, Eliza, for your ultra-proofing skills, and Caitlin C-L, for equally helpful feedback. Both of you- DON'T STOP! XD_

_Loves and hugs, _

_[Lily Mc  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_To my dear, awesome reader-friends who have spoken up about this in reviews or messages: You are the reason I am continuing this fic. I feel obligated not to let you down a trace longer- in fact- I'm breaking my "Fanfiction is for the summer season" rule to write this. Castle has been SO INTENSE lately; some of it brought me back to the feelings that persuaded me to indulge in this little fetus of a fic, in the first place. You know the feelings I mean…anger, with the writers, with Castle, with Beckett; ecstasy, over every Caskett moment, so pregnant you feel as if you are exploding, and, most importantly, ravenous- wanting, craving, needing more if one wishes to survive past the following Monday._

_Without further ado, I acknowledge that I have nothing at all to do with Castle, own simply the creative thought of this story, and am not affiliated with anyone affiliated with the show's production, as much as I kneel beside my bed at night, praying that I may and might._

_Onward to…!_

* * *

Chapter 4 :: The Morning After

Dreams. Dreams all night: clips, still images, sometimes entire movies. They were so real, in fact she'd believed they were reality, until these moments, when the thick cloud that separated her dream world and the real one was thinning, and she became aware of her unconsciousness.

Everything ached; her joints, her limbs themselves, even her nose and the sleek reddish brown hairs on her head throbbed asynchronously. Waking was slow. She felt adrift, and wobbly, and very much hung-over, but that last feeling didn't compensate for...this. Her eyes refused to open and her legs and arms were stiff, paralyzed. This must be similar to how it'd feel to be thawed after freezing- that is, the kind they do when you die.

Maybe she was dead. Maybe she was in a coma...what had happened? The last thing she remembered had been...er...right! The tub...her beloved, porcelain bathtub where she'd been pleasantly soaking...waiting for Lanie! Yes, it was growing easier to keep her fingers gripped on her thoughts. Then...then there was...she was weightless- that's all. Nothing more would come- until she felt like she was drowning, suddenly, like she had been dropped into scalding water where her unconsciousness stood stubbornly strong against her will to move, to survive. She was drowning, but instead of her lungs, her heart ached, pressing against her ribcage, unable to contain its own mass...her veins shrunk, receded painfully; she whimpered.

* * *

The body struggling against her heated sleeping bag of blankets woke her honestly. She blinked several times before gently removing her arms from around her best friend's shoulders and waist, grasping her mental surroundings. Yesterday's farewell party, Esposito...mmm, Bryton's birthday, and Beckett. Kate.

Lanie adjusted herself so that she didn't fall off the small twin-size bed, nudging the squirming Beckett as kindly as she could. "Honey? Break through it, it's a new day."

Beckett squirmed beneath her, mumbling gurgled Yiddish and thrashing her arms once she gained the control. Lanie realized what her friend was reliving, and mimicking actions preformed not twelve hours prior, grabbed Kate's upper body and lifted her up. Beckett sputtered air from her mouth, body jerkily relaxing, eyelids fluttering.

"Shh, baby girl you're safe, you're dry." Lanie patted Beckett's cheeks, massaging her shoulders with her free hand. The surface skin of the detective was bumpy and heated; whatever nightmare she'd been having, Lanie wanted no part of.

"Ca-Castle!" Beckett whisper-shouted. Lanie pushed Beckett's hair back, her head falling to Lanie's chest. "No, no, just an accident. Have some water before we're really in trouble- your skin is terribly dehydrated."

Beckett jolted free of her paralysis, very much awake. "Where is he?"

Lanie retracted her grip and squared herself to Beckett. "Oh honey no. You're the one who had the accident." She'd realize where that preppy writer boy was soon enough.

Beckett's eyes shut, her face pained. Bingo.

"Oh don't you worry, we'll get to his brown nose later. You have bigger problems, at the moment." Beckett, as if by magical force, took on a bruised expression. "Holy hell, Lanie. What happened?" Lanie's eyebrows shot up.

"Well it sure looked to hell like you tried to off yourself, until they stabilized you here and found traces of lithium in your system. A lot of lithium in your system, like it was buildin' up. The good men got to you alright, though, and forced it all outta you. At that point, nobody knew where you were, 'cause ya mouth would garble a smidge then be silent as your pulse for seconds too long. In the end, them fiine doctor men figured you out and sent your gurney here to recovery."

"I swear, if you're yanking me-"

"Check your pumped pancake of a tummy."

"No way."

""Wayyy."

"I can't believe..."

"...some sexy man saw you half naked? Neither can I. You're blessed with all the fortune."

"Not my choice words..."

"I took it upon myself to give him your number."

"You _what?_" She slapped her hands on the sheets.

"Oh, live a little! I wrote mine..."

"You're a piece of work, Ms. Lanie."

"I seem to do most work for you, nowadays." She placed a plastic cup of water in Beckett's hands and brought it to her mouth.

Her girlfriend smiled as the rim of the disposable Styrofoam met her lips, and she laughed as she realized just how dry they were.

* * *

About a week later and with not so much as a tweet from Castle, Detective Kate Beckett sat promptly at her dingy aluminum desk, filing a report. The desk itself was as messy as she'd ever allow- cascading stacks of paperwork skittered around the edges, with various office supplies and her official name plate facing the rest of the precinct. One thing was odd about the arrangement, say, the three empty bottles of doctor-prescribed water encasing her papers and flyers and post-it notes reminding her to accomplish various things…as her eyes grazed over a random one, she inhaled quickly as she read: Blowjob, Demming, in Castle's signature scrawl. She quickly ripped it off the top of the stack it was stuck to-she hoped it hadn't been there long enough for others to notice-and crumpled the paper in a tight fist.

She hadn't spoken with Demming, really…at all. Once, right after her brush with death, he'd been one of the first to visit her at the hospital (as soon as she was cleared with a prognosis of life), reigning in flowers, a teddy bear, a shower of his remaining feelings for her. She timidly admitted to herself that seeing him brought on a hint of butterflies to her then-abused stomach, which would literally have been quite hurtful…but she knew the tinglies were wrong. Demming was a good guy, a really…really good guy. He was even kind and caring enough to back off when she abruptly broke things off between them when she'd decided to take stock and invest in Castle a week back… Overcome with physical pain, she realized her fist had tightened so that her skin stretched thin over the white bone of her knuckles and her fingernails were pressing dangerously into her flesh, the post-it note now crammed tightly against the skin of her palm.

It wasn't fair to Demming, to lead him on. It wasn't fair to her. That's why she'd thanked him properly for his concern, and quickly shooed him out of her room so she could rest.

Rest. As if. She'd had nearly a week of "resting", and half her heart still hung limply in her chest. First day back on the job, and she was noticing how alone the job was, void of all things Richard Castle: nobody asking her questions all day about precinct gossip, reading aloud, animatedly, amusing articles from local newsprint, or whining about when the next case would roll in. She was filing through this pile-up faster than she could remember plowing through other large amounts of overdue work, although, she'd never been out of the precinct this long, ever. That fact alone was ammunition enough for her to fight for the right to her own case of poisoning, though for the second time that week, she was overruled by doctors _and_ the captain, who had handed the case over to a different precinct entirely (refusing to disclose which, specifically), just to make sure Beckett wouldn't try and take a peek at the case file. It was something about her doctors warning the captain about possible chronic poisoning and her now unstable capacity for withstanding toxins. Truth be told, she'd fudged a phone call to him, using Lanie's expertise to give her the green light on being on active duty, again, not two hours ago. She'd had enough of this desk, of sitting, of being victim to her thoughts, and most directionally, the gaping wound swelling in her ribcage, signed by none other than Castle himself.

* * *

Ryan and Esposito sauntered over to Beckett's big block desk carefully. Ever since the attempt on her life, they'd been especially protective of their mistress, but their earnest eyes spoke of something more than loyalty, more than faithful coworkers. Without looking away from her work, she addressed them. "Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as this paperwork." When neither of them responded side a short nervous glance at each other, she continued, "It's absolutely radical enough that a suspect's suicide conclude an investigation, but for the report to treat the incident like he's just another number to the death toll..." She lost her drabble as she ran out of lines on the paper and promptly continued using her own.

"We've got a case. A routine traffic stop turned up more than one unhappy teenager- it wasn't drugs he was packin', either." Esposito spoke first.

"Or, a politician was thrown off the top of a parking garage, and the prime suspect is not the woman carrying his child…but his wife." Ryan added, dramatically.

"A mailman was found mauled by a great dane, who is now in custody." Esposito flipped some pages on his clipboard.

"But nobody thinks he's actually guilty." Ryan quipped with an uplifting smile.

"Don't you two have work to do, instead of listening to reports and snatching the ones you want?" Beckett stopped writing, placed her elbows on the desk, and bore through them like a vulture might.

"We've had a lot of down time with you abse-" Esposito knocked Ryan in the ribs with an elbow of his own. "What he means is, we've cleaned our plates, mother Beckett." Espo finished, seriously.

Beckett bit her lip, eyeing the pair. "Did you make those up?"

"Alright, consider us caught- we selected the cases we thought would help you move on from, well, you know." Esposito rubbed an invisible speck from his badge onto his shirt.

"We're also up to date on the affair between Manett and Wilmont, in case your week off has put you behind on important happenings like this." Ryan crossed his arms, hopeful.

Beckett thinned, "You two are almost intolerant," she pushed her hair back, behind both ears. "Let's take one apiece- winner gets free drinks." Her brown eyes glinted with the challenge.

Being the team that they were, Ryan and Esposito proudly put in their hands. They started to turn, but stopped, and peeked back at Beckett. "Hey," Ryan offered. Beckett paused and raised her eyes to meet theirs. The fight in them was barely visible. Esposito took the first line: "If you need anything-"

"A slip of gin in your coffee, a crate of piranhas shipped to the Hamptons, anger-management therapy…" Ryan supplied, "We're here for you." Esposito finished. Both of them nodded, the smiles nowhere to be seen on their faces. Beckett stalled, not fond of this emotional confrontation. She was the one who needed to be strong for them, not vice-versa. "Thanks, guys. That really means something. Why don't you head home? I'm pretty wiped from this nothingness; we can start fresh on those homicides tomorrow." She tried to look as genuine as her tone.

"Night, then." They quickly chirped, and with lackadaisical waves of goodbye, practically raced each other to the elevator.

"Night." Beckett bowed her head.

_"Until tomorrow."_

Beckett's head nearly whipped up, facing the empty, worn brown chair beside her desk. That voice, that voice that she'd heard every day for the past two years-almost constantly-was a phantom. The precinct was barely populated now, as long days of work were being tied up and put to bed as early as possible. Kate sat up in her chair, closed her eyes, and made a wish. Like she used to when she and her mom would watch shooting stars sprint across the sky at night, she put her whole heart (more appropriately, broken, heart), and soul into her wish, despite the lack of a shooting star to whisk its magic upon her. She counted thirty-two breaths in and out (it was much easier to breathe her age when she was eight, humph), and slowly opened one eye at a time.

Her world shook, at what she saw in front of her- dark hair, captivating eyes, a toned body with right-fitting clothes- Demming.

"Tom!" Beckett squeaked.

"Kate," Tom breathed.

"I just wanted to run a case by you…are you alright?" He squinted at her, obviously concerned about her ritual. She didn't expect him to understand.

"Yeah, yeah, all's well. I just needed a sec…this paperwork is murder." She awkwardly giggled at her joke. Demming smiled, unconvinced, but not willing to push the issue. Castle would understand. Castle would pursue the issue. Castle would offer her _resolve_ to the issue.

Beckett nodded to the file in his hands. She noticed his coat folded over his arm. "You have a case, for me?"

"I just thought-"

"Sure." She cut him off, hurriedly. She wondered why a robbery cop was inquiring to a homicide one. They were, after all, strictly professional these days.

"It's pretty…windy. Somehow a robbery ended up in triple homicide…your name was the first to my mind." He grinned, trying to share a secret glance with her. But they didn't have anything to be giving secret glances over.

Beckett let out a steady gap of air from the side of her mouth, "I'd be happy to take a look."

"Great." He didn't move.

"If you could just…" she gestured to a pile near the front of her desk, hostage to a plethora of sticky notes. One of them, she caught with a glimpse, had a stick drawing of two people kissing…explicitly, with a banner "'Beckemming' since April 2010" above the characters. Kate, internally, slithered off her chair, under her desk, and melted into a puddle of goo. She was looking away, at Manett and Wilmont sweet-talking each other up a few desks away, when she heard Demming chuckle, and the file land pointedly on the bundle of paperwork.

"Thanks…" she mumbled, incredulously.

"Any time." Tom flashed his signature, sexy smile, and she felt her expression warm. He was about to open his mouth again as he touched his coat, but Kate knew better, and had already returned to thoroughly examining the case open before her- she'd already cheated and pulled the one she thought would distract her most. Here's a hint: it wasn't about the politician, his wife, and his baby momma. Demming's footsteps lead away from her desk seconds later, and she peeped her eyes upward, watching yet another good man she'd disallowed access to the core of the Beckett Onion go, wanting to cry. Castle was everywhere, Castle was nowhere. She verbally groaned, wondering how many more post-it presents he'd left for her…her only condolence being that he was writing books inspired by her, about her.

It seemed that neither of them would truly be escaping the other, this summer.

_Little did she know, someone was making that very difficult for one, Richard Castle._

* * *

**END CHAPTER**

_Alright: I did my homework on a LOT of this chapter, although if you know anything about lithium poisoning, I may have blurred a few lines here and there. That's because I wrote the first (lost) half in a place where I didn't have any of my references available. Ah, poo, right? Anyway, it ended up working out quite snugly, the whole lithium ordeal. I have a bit up my sleeve, but a few things to think about, too... _

_Ideally, we're headed for a short time skip, and the meeting of a new very special someone for our lovely detective friend and the reuniting of our favourite crime-fighting couple, but after that, I'm considering skipping ahead again, to more current times, as that is where my Castle brain currently laps. Or, I could start an entirely new fic about the now, and keep this one behind, catching up to now. Thoughts? Voice 'em! I'd also appreciate feedback on this chapter, especially, since I haven't written much of anything in a bloody long time, let alone Castle. Thanks to common sense, I salvaged the "lost" part of this chap. from my old phone, and just cranked out the rest, no problem. I can only pray that continues. I appreciate every review, and encourage you to stay tuned~!_

[_Lily Mc xx_


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